Old Friends
by moms5thchild
Summary: Some nights old friends are the best friends.


_Hello. Mom's been busy; moving back to the old home town, buying a house and fixing same. I admit stories have been the last thing on my mind. Then, goaded by a good friend, I started writing again. Here is a one shot and with luck something more will come. Also, while I may remove a story from this site, I never eradicate them... there is always hope for repair and replacement._

_Merry Christmas... and Alice, I didn't get you to beta this but I hope to send you a story to correct soon._

**Old Friends**

Tonight the fog didn't come in on little cat's feet. Tonight the fog covered the city like a shroud; dampening sound, deadening sight and wrapping cold fingers round the throats of any of the city's citizens foolish enough to wander the streets. Even the criminal element stayed indoors. You can't drive a get away car when you can't see the street.

Robert Ironside sat on the leather sofa under the large curved windows. A small pool of light from the only lamp on in the rooms was his only light. The rest of the office space was dark but familiar and comfortable. He pulled his left leg up and balanced it on his right knee. There, he thought as he swirled bourbon round in his glass, I look normal. His wheelchair, his brocade buggy, was pushed to the side. It was ready if needed but out of his sight right now. It could stay there. When Robert Ironside traveled down memory lane, he walked.

"Bob," Dennis Randall's voice broke the silence. Damn, an unwelcome intruder.

Dennis rounded the corner and stopped. "Bob, what the hell are you doing sitting alone in the dark?"

"I am, in fact, not sitting in the dark," Ironside answered his old friend. "Beside me is a perfectly operating lamp which contains a functioning light bulb which is illuminating the area I am sitting in. I am surrounded by light."

Dennis shook his head, "semantics."

"Gesundheit," Bob shot back. "Why aren't you home with the beautiful Marie?"

"My wife is in New York visiting her sister and spending my money." Dennis finally walked to the couch and collapsed. "I was hoping there might be a poker game I could sit in on."

"Ed, Eve and Mark are all on dates. Young love and all that jazz; I gave them all the night off."

"You let them have a night like this off. That's generous of you." Dennis couldn't help but notice the barely touched bourbon in Bob's glass. "And you're drinking alone. That is not a good sign."

"If you want some, get a glass. I'm not letting you drink out of the bottle."

Randall pushed himself off the sofa and turned on all the lights on the way to the kitchen.

"Turn off those flaming lights! You're wasting electricity."

On his return Dennis shut off some, but not all lights and poured himself two fingers of bourbon; but he did not resume his seat.

"So are you moping because Alexandra got away or are you sorry you let her escape?"

Ironside just stared down into his drink.

"Bob, you stopped a jewelry heist and put an APB out on her. I didn't expect you to stop her car with your wheelchair."

Bob gulped down half his drink, "It wasn't that. It was that damn stroll, roll, down memory lane."

Dennis lowered himself down beside his friend.

The Chief leaned his head back and gazed into space. "I almost bought a house, like I was trying to impress her. The only thing that ever impressed Alex glittered under a jeweler's loupe." Bob looked over at his old friend. "Next time I try to impress a woman from my past you have permission to knock some sense into me."

Randall saluted his friend with his glass and took a sip. "Bob, you got a place here as long as you want or as long as I'm police commissioner. Whichever ends first."

Ironside finished his drink. "To hell with that; no woman in her right mind would want to live here." He set his leg back on the floor and reached for his wheelchair. "I just haven't found the right one yet. When that someone comes along we'll start fresh and make new memories together. Speaking of memories I seem to remember you came here to lose some money. How about cribbage; a quarter a point to make things interesting?"

Dennis rose as Bob transferred into his chair. "This bad booze is making you sentimental, scrambled your brains. I just might make it out of here with money in my pocket."

"In your dreams, Mr. Commissioner, and don't expect me to waste any more of my good bourbon on you. Let's play cards."

**FINI**


End file.
